Faramir, Father's Bane
by zsp
Summary: The War of the Ring is over, and a time of relative peace reigns in the West. The thoughts of Faramir, Eowyn, Arwen, and Aragorn now turn to domestic matters. But the shadows of their pasts may prove as difficult of foes as any they've yet encountered.
1. Chapter 1

**Faramir, Father's Bane**

**_I do not have ownership of rights to _The Lord of the Rings_,  
it's associated world or any affiliated literature or films,  
nor am I making any profit off of it._**

* * *

**Let me know what you think! This is my first LOTR story and I take all your comments and reviews into account when I'm writing. I hope you enjoy it!_  
_**

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**Chapter 1**

_"Do you wish that our places were exchanged?"_

_"I do."_

_"Very well. Since you are robbed of your son and heir, I shall go in his stead. But if I return think better of me, father."_

_"That depends on the manner of your return."_

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"_Faramir, son of Denethor!_"

The young captain clenched his fists. The whispered words stung him, like the deadly bite of some venomous snake in the arid wastes of Harad far away. Before his eyes there was nothing to be seen, not a point of light, not a vague greyness, nor the dark blue of the twilit sky. It was a darkness devoid of color, a void, a black pit of horrible, all-consuming nothingness.

"Who calls?!" the young captain answered to the blackness.

"_Faramir!_" the shrill voice said again, cold and cruel as steel swords.

"Show yourself foul creature of darkness!"

Faramir's hand reached for his sword, but, to his horror, no hilt nor scabbard did he find there. Suddenly he felt exposed, without armor or raiment or weapon with which to shield himself from the blow of his enemy. He was naked in the dark, helpless in the face of his foe.

"Faramir, lesser son of the lowly House of _Stewards_-ever _faithless,_ and _foolhardy_-thou hast dared to defy the might of Sauron, Lord of Arda*! No slumber of peace shalt thou have, no quick escape to refuge in cursed Mandos'** halls. Nay. _Long_ shalt thy torment be!"

Suddenly, Faramir felt chill. An overwhelming fear came on him, like he had felt at the Causeway Forts under the Shadow of those terrible Creatures. He could hear their shrill bone-chilling screams in his mind. The fear grew, and Faramir sensed the approach of the fell being.

There was a horrible, contemptuous laugh.

"Even now thou cowerest in fear! What art thou after all but a Wizard's Pupil, a puppet, a craven, willful child, an insolent shadow of thy brother's brutish might? Always faithless to friend, or countryman, or kin, now thou art even thy father's bane."

Faramir's heart sunk within him. Father's bane? He nearly choked on the words. What terrible devilry was this? He searched his fading memory, trying to understand what this might mean.

There was more cruel laughter.

And then...

"Away foul servant of Morgoth the Chained! This one at least thou shall not have!"

The voice was loud, but distant, commanding, but somehow pleasant, like a cool stream of water flowing down through the green fields of Lebennin, or a breath of wind from the Sea refreshing one as he stood at the Harlond on a hot summer's day.

Suddenly a silence, deep and foreboding reigned.

The fear began to fade. Color, of a sort came to the blackness.

A sweet, familiar scent filled the air and far off, he could see a light.

"Faramir! Faramir!" a voice, lordly but kind, gently called.

"I am here lord. Who art thou?"

The figure slowly approached, straining his eyes like one searching desperately in a dark vale for a friend, lost and blind.

Suddenly, Faramir beheld the figure more clearly. Kingly he looked, but also worn and weathered. His face was kind, and his eyes gentle. He was dressed in armor emblazoned with a white tree and seven stars, the sign of Elendil, long since disused. On his brow white flames (if flames they were) formed the crown of the ancient kings, and on his chest sat a bright green stone. Venerable and wise he looked, yet also like one in the prime of his manhood.

Could it be true? Could there indeed be a king returning to Gondor in these days, dark as they were?

The dark thoughts of moments before fled his mind.

"My lord, this is a joy unlooked for! I am your humble servant! What is your command?"

"Come, Faramir, son of Denethor! Walk no longer in darkness!"

**To be continued...**

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_*Arda is the Earth, of which Middle Earth is part._

_** Mandos is one of the Valar ( the "gods" of __Arda-the world in which Middle earth lies)__. He is the Master of Souls, responsible for the dead of both Elves and Men. They both dwell in his Halls (also called Mandos), though there is no contact or mingling. Here Men are judged by Mandos and then depart Arda to fates that even the Valar don't fully understand.  
_

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**Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

_I do not have ownership of rights to The Lord of the Rings, it's associated world or any affiliated literature or films, nor am I making any profit off of it._

* * *

**Let me know what you think! This is my first LOTR story and I take all your comments and reviews into account when I'm writing. I hope you enjoy it!_  
_**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Faramir stared out at the view. The river bustled with boat traffic going hither thither. Great ships of Umbar, and fisherfolk of Lebennin and Harondor mixed with traders from Rohan and Lorien and Men of the distant upper reaches of Anduin. To the north were the thick woods of Ithilien and, far off, the faintest trace of mist, where the mighty Falls of Rauros tumbled over the great escarpment. To the south scattered woodlands and grasslands began to give way to the steppe-lands of eastern Harondor. On the Western bank the emerald vales of Lebennin began. Faramir fancied that on this beautiful cloudless day he could even see the sparkling waters of the River Erui as it lazily flowed toward the busy port of Pelargir. Directly across the river, surrounded by the lush green farmlands of Rammas Echor, sat the mighty Tower of the Guard, with its white tower, and it's seven levels. It was there his thought was focused.

But his mind was not on the sparkling turrets or majestic courts, towering above the plains. It walked in Rath Dinen, the Houses of the Dead, dark beneath the shadow of Mount Mindolluin. There, buried beneath rubble and ash, lay a mystery and a tragedy that stole his sleep. He could picture it now, with is waking eyes. The pyre. The wood stacked up high. The sound of sword-fighting in the hallowed places. Fire. And finally, the building collapsing in a hail of sparks and smoke.

Faramir shuddered at the thought. No. He must not dwell on such things. Schemes and devilry of the Dark Lord, that's what it was. At work even now to darken his thoughts.

From Minas Tirith his eyes wandered down to where his wife Éowyn, fair as a full-grown sunflower, stood on the lush grass, busily engaged in discussing plans for a series of terraced gardens with one of the Dwarvish master builders they had hired.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

Faramir turned.

"Captain Beregond," he said with a warm smile. "Do you deliver tidings my friend?"  
Beregond bowed. "My lord, one of the Elvish folk has requested to speak with you. He says he has a message for you sir."

"Send him up," Faramir said with a smile. He counted it a great fortune that his already fair fiefdom had been populated by a colony of elves from the north.

"And have some of that new wine from Rhun brought up."

The elves of Greenwood were very fond of Rhunish wine it was said.  
Thranduil, Lord of the Woodland Realm was said to import great quantities of it up the River Running, beyond the barren plain of Dagorlad.

Within moments a fair elf strode into the room. "Master Legolas! It is always an honor to have one of the elder kindred as a guest, but one of the Nine Walkers-that is a rare treat!"

Legolas bowed graciously.

"How do you like your new home? I hope you and your people are happy in our land."

"Verily. Since the passing of the Lady Galadriel and the Three Rings over the Sea few places are so full of light and song as fair Ithilien in the spring."

Faramir nodded. "So I and my forefathers have long thought. My kin dwelt here before the return of the Shadow, from the founding of Minas Ithil, if the old tales are to be believed."

Presently a servant came in with a bottle of dark red wine.

"I've bought a shipment of this from the vineyards of Dorwinion. Come, refresh yourself ere you speak of your task."

Legolas looked down with delight at the provided refreshments.

"Thank you my lord."

After he had drained his glass he recounted his tale.

"By chance I met a messenger at the bridge over Morgalduin bringing tidings from Minas Tirith. He had ridden long and looked weary, so I offered him refreshment and asked him his task. When I learned his destination was your fair house here in Emyn Arnen, I offered to take the message myself, as Men weary far quicker in a test of speed than the Eldar."

"It's hard to believe that a few years ago this was naught but a hidden ruin, tucked away in the forest beyond sight or recall. Eowyn has done wonders with the place."

Legolas looked around the room. The architecture and furnishing had a strong classical tone to them, like the buildings of Minas Tirith or Osgiliath, influenced and supplemented by the beautiful curves and intricate woodwork of the people of Rohan and the skillful stonework of the Dwarves.

"But come, tell me your message Master Legolas. What news from the White Tower?"

"It is a summons, of sorts, from the King." The words sounded strange as he spoke them. Aragorn, though as kind and gracious a friend as ever, was no longer the humble Ranger, tracking his way through The Wild. He was the highly exalted King of the West, a vision of Elendil himself in days long gone by.

Putting these thoughts aside, he finally opened his message and read it.

"His Majesty King Elessar begs that you would wait on him in the Court of the Guard, tin order to prepare for the coming of Master Samwise, Walker, Ringbearer, and Mayor of The Shire."

Legolas looked up. "He also bids that you bring the Lady Éowyn."

Faramir grinned broadly. "This is no chore but a delight. I will attend to His Majesty at once, and the Lady Éowyn shall be at my side. And you as well, Master Legolas, if you wish."

Legolas eyes sparkled. "It has been long since I have seen my dear friends from the North. And one does not easily weary of the company of hobbits, merry folk as they are-especially hobbits he has risked hide and hair to protect. Yes, I think I shall come."

"Then I shall see thee soon Master Elf. We leave first thing in the morning!"

**To be continued...**

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**Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!**


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